Another Day
by RatherBeAWriter
Summary: It was another day and another pursuit. And then, for a few minutes that felt like a few days, Aaron Hotchner thought it might be the day and the pursuit which would change his life forever. Emily gets hurt on the job but she isn't the only one affected by the day. One-shot.


**A/N: This started as a short piece of fluff so I could try out writing a non-canon paring that didn't fit in my other fics. But the story kind of grew and the fluff disappeared quite a bit. Anyway, I hope you like it all the same. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Criminal Minds. **

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It was another day and another pursuit. And then, for a few minutes that felt like a few days, Aaron Hotchner thought it might be the day and the pursuit which would change his life forever.

Emily was running in front him, closing in on their suspect, and then suddenly there was a loud pop and she was sprawled across the ground on her back. From the sensation he felt in his chest, there was a brief moment when he wondered whether he had also been hit. But then his instincts kicked in and he carried on running. She raised her hand, gesturing for him to continue after the UNSUB. And he did that, though the further he moved from her, the more he felt as though he was running against a magnetic force.

"I've got him," Morgan called, roughly cuffing the UNSUB's arms behind his back. He could tell Hotch was torn between taking charge of the suspect and rushing to Emily's side.

Hotch nodded in Morgan's direction, grateful that his colleague had made the decision for him. It was moments like this that justified Strauss's concerns over his relationship with Emily. It was nearly impossible to keep concentrating on his job, when his girlfriend was on the ground and he had no way of knowing the extent of her injuries. Without another thought, he jogged back towards her.

Emily was trying to sit up by the time Hotch reached her. He knelt by her side and gently pushed her back towards the ground.

"You need to stay down," he commanded, moving his hand from her shoulder to her forehead, and gently smoothing back her hair

"I'm fine, Aaron," she insisted. She was a little breathless but she still managed to roll her eyes and make a point of using his first name in response to his evident concern. The level of her partner's worry or stress could be rather accurately determined by the depth of the creases in his forehead. Right then, he had left behind "SSA Hotchner concerned about a subordinate in the field" territory and moved well into "overprotective boyfriend" mode.

"Let me have a look," he instructed, making it clear that he wasn't asking a question.

Carefully, he undid the Velcro straps of her Kevlar vest and slipped his hand under the area where the bullet had made its impact. Her breath caught in her throat and she let out a small whimper at his touch. His eyes automatically flew towards hers in a need to offer her reassurance.

"It's okay – your vest caught the bullet," he explained, removing his hand from her injury and instead resting it reassuringly on her shoulder.

"Well I think we'd both be freaking out by now if it hadn't," she muttered with a dry chuckle, which she instantly regretted. She grimaced and Hotch frowned.

"How badly does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not too badly," she responded unconvincingly, shaking her head and sucking in a breath.

"Emily," he warned, raising his eyebrows. "I can tell when you're lying." He couldn't disguise the hint of a smirk that briefly crossed his face at her annoyance. She hated that he could see through the front that fooled almost everyone else.

"Just help me up. Please," she sighed, admitting defeat.

"Okay," he agreed with some reluctance. "But you need to stay sitting down and you have to tell me if the pain gets too much."

She nodded, accepting his conditions, and he gently slid his arm behind her back and eased her into a sitting position. Holding her breath and clenching her fists she managed to block out the pain from her protesting ribs and soon she was sitting upright, supported against Hotch's chest.

"Better?" he asked, placing his hand on her back in a soothing gesture.

"Better," she agreed, though she suddenly felt herself wishing they were at home, rather than in the middle of the street outside a suspect's apartment. "Overprotective boyfriend Aaron" could be more than a little annoying, but as the shock of being shot set in, that was who she really needed.

/  
/

Ten minutes later Emily sat on the back step of an ambulance with Hotch hovering nearby. A silver trauma blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and she was gingerly pressing an icepack to her ribs.

"Prentiss, let the medics do their job ; if they want to take you to the hospital then that's where you're going to go" Hotch instructed sternly, slowly returning to the role of unit chief. "Protocol requires agents injured in the field to have a proper medical assessment," he added, making it clear that his command was not just the result of his worry for his girlfriend.

"Have I ever told you what to do with your protocol?" Emily asked cheekily, raising her eyebrows and trying to draw a hint of humour from Hotch's severe expression. However his face remained unchanged and she didn't get to answer her own question because the paramedic, who had been assisting his partner with another patient, returned to the ambulance.

"How are we doing?" the medic asked, setting his kit bag beside Emily and attaching a blood pressure cuff to her arm.

"She's experiencing considerable pain from her ribs and she's still struggling to catch her breath," Hotch answered, before the words "I'm fine" could leave Emily's mouth.

Emily threw him a glare at his choice of words. The paramedic nodded and produced a stethoscope from his bag.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed, pressing the cold metal instrument against her chest. She winced as she tried to do as she was told.

Hotch gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze – the closest to affection that they would show when they were in a professional capacity.

"Is she okay?" he asked worriedly, trying to ignore the lead detective from the case, who was attempting to catch his eye from further down the street.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," the medic responded with a smile, moving the stethoscope to Emily's back, before giving Hotch another nod to confirm his statement.

The police detective was making his way towards them and Hotch realised that he would have to deal with him.

"I have to check in with Detective Wright ," he reluctantly informed Emily. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she responded dryly, wishing he would stop making such a fuss in public.

With another quick squeeze of her shoulder, Hotch walked swiftly towards the detective.

"Boyfriend?" the paramedic asked as Hotch left them alone, and he placed an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.

"And boss," she replied, smiling slightly from behind the mask. It amused her to think that despite Hotch's best attempts at portraying himself as nothing more than her team leader, a complete stranger had guessed their relationship.

"That explains it then," the paramedic chuckled. "Worst combination there is – I doubt he'll let you out of his sight for the next while!"

Emily watched Hotch as he tried to subtly sneak a glance back towards her, only confirming what the paramedic was saying. She frowned at the uneasy look on his face, and his obvious difficulty concentrating on the task in hand, as his eyes again strayed away from the detective and towards her. Hotch was a serious man and he definitely worried about her when she was hurt but it wasn't at all like him to allow himself to be distracted from work or for his frown to be so firmly etched upon his face. Something else was definitely going on.

/  
/

It was late in the evening before Hotch and Emily returned to his house. It had taken several hours of waiting at the hospital before an x-ray confirmed that she had two broken ribs. She was drowsy from the painkillers which she had reluctantly accepted after the first hour spent on an uncomfortable bed in the ER, and allowed him to guide her straight through to the sofa.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, as he helped her to sit down and positioned extra pillows behind her back.

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm just tired."

One look at her heavy eyelids confirmed her exhaustion and he draped a blanket over her body before leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

"I'll let you sleep then," he nodded. "I'll just be doing some paperwork over there." He indicated towards the table at the far side of the room.

Emily studied his expression and posture carefully. Tension seemed to exude from every muscle and he seemed incapable of turning his mouth into a smile.

"Aaron, are you okay?" she asked, lightly catching hold of his wrist and preventing him from walking away.

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who got shot," he responded without a trace of humour.

"You do know that I'm okay, right?" she questioned, her own expression becoming serious and her eyes narrowing with concern.

"I know," he agreed, allowing his hand to brush across hers as he pulled away. "Get some sleep," he instructed flatly.

"Stay with me?" she asked, aware how pathetic it sounded but desperate to find out what was going on with him.

"I really have to get on with this paperwork," he sighed, with a trace of reluctance and of something else that she couldn't quite identify. "Just shout if you need anything."

It was Emily's turn to respond with a half-hearted nod and a sigh as he crossed the room, turned on a small lamp and spread out his papers across the dining table. One minute he couldn't take his eyes off of her and the next he couldn't get away quickly enough. It was one of his most attractive, but also most infuriating, qualities that the workings of his mind could still remain a mystery after all the time they had spent together. And tonight she didn't have the energy to try and figure him out.

/  
/

Emily fell asleep not long after Hotch had left her alone on the sofa. She had watched him for as long as she could. He was agitated and unsettled in his work and she'd wanted to go to him and try to make it better, but the painkillers were strong and her limbs felt like lead and from there her eyes had closed and she'd drifted off.

At first, she was unaware of what had caused her to stir from her sleep. She was groggy and felt nauseous as she oriented herself to her dimly lit surroundings. Pulling herself upright, she cursed under her breath at the explosion of pain across the right side of her chest. The painkillers may have knocked her out but they had definitely worn off. She clutched the area above her damaged ribs with her hand and tried to breathe through the burning pain. It was only when she was about to give in and shout for Hotch, that she realised what had caused her to wake up.

"Please!" shouted Hotch's voice. "Not her!"

Emily's own pain slipped from the forefront of her mind and she dragged herself to her feet and across the room in the direction of his cries. He was slumped across the table but twitching restlessly as he endured whatever nightmare his brain had decided to play.

"Aaron," she called softly, crouching beside him and gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up; you're dreaming."

"Stop, not her," he mumbled, turning to face her, even though he was still caught in the tendrils of the nightmare.

"Aaron," she repeated, smoothing his hair from his sweaty brow.

"Emily," he breathed, as his eyes sprung open and darted wildly around the room.

"It's okay," she soothed. "You were talking in your sleep." Her hand rested against one side of his face and her thumb stroked his cheek as he watched her through puzzled eyes.

Slowly, he straightened up and stretched out his stiff neck. He'd been dreaming about Haley and Foyet. It was a dream he'd had a hundred times, but this time, as had been happening more recently, Haley had morphed into Emily and he'd seen another woman that he loved die at the hands of his personal monster.

"Your ribs," he muttered, remembering that Emily really had been shot that day.

"I'm fine," she assured him with a smile, though each breath seemed to intensify the fire. "Why don't we go up to bed?" she suggested, her fingers tracing his jawline and then softly massaging a tense spot on his neck.

"I should…" He glanced towards the mess of paperwork, as his disorientated mind recalled what he had been doing before he fell asleep.

"It can wait til morning," Emily insisted, visibly wincing as she got to her feet and took Hotch's hand. He followed her lead and pulled his stiff body from the chair.

"I've got you," he assured her, wrapping his arm around her waist when she struggled to keep her body upright. And she knew he needed that closeness just as much as she did.

/  
/

"You need to take another painkiller," Hotch commented as he returned to their bedroom, where he had settled Emily on the bed before taking a shower. He'd hoped the water would wash away not only the sweat which had soaked his body, but also the uneasy feeling which remained from the dream. If he was being honest with himself, it had started the moment he heard the gunshot and saw Emily fall to the ground. His nightmare had only made it worse and the shower had done little to help.

Emily groaned as she tried to sit up and accept the bottle of pills he was offering to her. She'd spent the last half hour unsuccessfully trying to find a position in which breathing didn't cause her eyes to water or her entire body to tense up in response to the pain.

"Easy," he warned, sitting on the edge of the bed and supporting her before she could cause herself any harm. He tipped two pills from the bottle and picked up the glass of water from the nightstand

"I'm not an invalid," she reminded him, as she popped the pills into her mouth and he held the glass to her lips, but she wasn't really annoyed by his attentiveness. Not right now, when they were alone and she was exhausted and sore.

"I don't like seeing you in pain," he remarked, lowering her back against the pillows and settling down beside her, before pulling the duvet around both of them.

"I don't like seeing you in pain either," she replied, carefully adjusting her position so that her head was resting on his chest. While Hotch's distress wasn't physical, it didn't make it any less concerning.

He wrapped an arm around her in a manner so well practiced that it barely required a thought. For two people who so fiercely defended their independence and would never show anyone else how much they needed one another, they fitted together, in moments like this, with unbelievable ease.

"Do you want to talk about your dream?" she asked, aware that by morning their shared moment of vulnerability would be gone.

"No," came his reply. "I just want to forget it."

"Then do you want to talk about today?" she tried.

A silence filled the air in the dark room and she was almost certain she wouldn't even get a response. But then his voice broke through and she was taken aback by how raw it sounded.

"I thought I'd lost you," he breathed, running his fingers through her dark hair. "I lost Haley; I can't do it again."

"You can always talk to me about her," Emily reminded him. "It might help." She'd never had that jealously that others expected her to have in respect of the woman. But still, it was rare for Hotch to bring her up.

"Not now," he answered, tightening his hold on Emily as though she might slip away from him. "Today I'm only worried about losing you." He didn't want to tell her about his latest recurring nightmare, or the intensity of his fear on hearing the gunshot earlier in the day. But he needed her to know how much he needed her to keep staying alive.

Emily wrapped her fingers around his as quiet descended upon them again. Her head was starting to swim from the side effects of the painkillers and her eyes fought against themselves to stay open. Her own hurt was fading away, but Hotch's was still strong.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, wishing it was a promise but knowing it could only be a hope. It was the best she could do, though she suspected it would never be enough to comfort a man who had already experienced the kind of loss he feared.

As he softly kissed her head, Hotch perfectly understood the sentiment which Emily had hoped to express. Neither of them knew what would happen on the next case; neither of them knew whether the other would survive the next gunshot or explosion or knife wielding psychopath. But all they could do was hope for as long a future as was possible. And no one could expect anything more.

However, as his girlfriend drifted to sleep in his arms, one more thought entered his mind – as pointless and agonizing as it was, he would never stop worrying about Emily Prentiss. And from the way she laced her fingers through his before she closed her eyes, he suspected the feeling was mutual.


End file.
